


The Importance of Trust, Truth, and Sweaters

by dorkysetters



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Christmas, M/M, Mentions of Jack Crawford and Freddie Lounds, Post-Fall (Hannibal)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 19:11:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17147477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkysetters/pseuds/dorkysetters
Summary: “Holy shit,” Will laughed. “You’re really gay for me aren’t you?”Hannibal smiled softly, his eyes filled with affection. “I had wondered how long it would take for you to catch on.”“Too long.”—aka a very optimistic interpretation of Will and Hannibal’s first Christmas together





	The Importance of Trust, Truth, and Sweaters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sperus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sperus/gifts).



> This fic is my Hannibal Secret Santa gift for @Sperus! I hope you like it!! Happy Holidays!!

“What are you doing?” Will whispered, pulling his robe tight against his chest as he made his way down the stairs, hand trailing lightly along the railing. Below, on the ground floor of their small cabin, Hannibal sat at the piano, his fingers hovering over the keys, ready to resume their playing at any moment. His eyes trailed Will as he descended. 

“Winston wanted out.” Hannibal gestured to his sheet music. “I got distracted.”

The soft, comforting glow of the colorful Christmas tree lights highlighted the peaks of Hannibal’s face; all his sharp features became sharper as the rounder portions were drowned in darkness. He sat with perfect posture and moved with all his usual grace. He looked exactly like the devil everyone made him out to be, all sharp edges and otherworldly outer shell. The darkness of his face was a contrast to his outfit; dark green cotton pajamas, matching slippers, and a light red sweater. A fuzzy brown blanket draped over his shoulders completed the look. Will considered taking a picture to send to Freddie Lounds. The hours she would spend photoshopping his devilish face onto a picture of Hannibal in a suit- pictures of cannibals in pajamas and slippers probably didn’t sell very well- would be well worth having to watch Hannibal pour over the magazine for hours.

Will shivered in the sharp, cold air of the cabin. The cabin was always freezing, but with the FBI still looking for them, Will and Hannibal could never be choosy about the places they stayed in. Will hated their tiny cabin as much as he adored the woods that surrounded it. Every part of it screamed home to him; the rustic wood paneling and shag carpet reminded him of cheap rent houses shared with his father during boyhood and long nights spent alone, doing homework and eating microwavable dinners. However, the beauty of the trees that surrounded them offered him the solitude he had once claimed as a child. Out in the woods, the world where FBI agents dissected crime scenes and most dinner tables consisted of things other than human flesh no longer existed. Hannibal resented the cabin for the same reasons Will loved it- it was miles from any form of proper civilization- but basked in Will’s company like a cat lying in a tiny sun patch. Neither of them were alone anymore, and there was no room in the tiny cabin to hide the truth about their intimate connection to one another. 

Will shuffled across the floor, trying his best not to trip on anything hidden in the shadows, despite knowing Hannibal never went to bed before the cabin was a clean as he could get it. Something wet and familiar touched his ankle, so he bent down to greet it. Four or five dogs, a mass of wagging tails and warm fur, pressed into his outstretched hands, looking to be pet. “Looks like you have an audience.” 

Hannibal bent down to let the two or three dogs that had stayed close to his seat lick his hand. He smoothed the top of their heads before turning to look at Will. “Classical music has been proven to help dogs relax. I assume they did more sleeping than listening.”

Will continued to make his way towards the piano, walking carefully to avoid stepping on any paws. The dogs followed him, tripping over each other and plopping down on the small rug under Hannibal’s seat wherever there was room. They glanced up at him expectantly, eyes full of want and admiration. Hannibal often looked at Will the same way. The sight made Will’s heart ache. He kissed the top of Hannibal’s head, then leaned forward to glance at the sheet music. 

“Working on an original?”

“Debussy’s Arabesque No.1. It’s Winston’s favorite. He does not seem to be a fan of my original works.” 

“Well, there’s definitely no accounting for taste.” Will followed Hannibal’s gaze to find Winston gently snoring on the couch. “He looks captivated.”

“He’s tired,” Hannibal laughed. He reached out to caress Will’s cheek, thumb brushing across the bags under Will’s eyes. “As are you, love. Go back to bed.”

“You could play for me instead.” Will moved to sit on the seat next to Hannibal, pushing against him to make room. Hannibal smiled fondly at him. “Not Debussy.” 

“As you wish.”

“Thanks, Westley.”

Hannibal, smiling, rolled his eyes and flipped through a few pages in his book of sheet music. Will took in Hannibal’s appearance again. He was less sharp now, with Will next to him, like his presence had taken some of the shadows away. His hair was tangled and the back stood up at strange angles, like it was trying to make a run from the rest of his head. The matching pajamas and red sweater, accented by the Christmas tree lights, made him look very young. His real age was still there, apparent in the years of worry and pleasure that sat around his eyes, but something boyish was present as well. Seeing Hannibal Lecter like this, unkempt and entirely himself, made Wil’s heart seize with pride and love. Both of them had worked hard to earn this level of trust, where they could sit close in the early hours of the morning without shame or fear. The empty air between them bubbled gently with the domestic intimacy of the moment, and Will soaked it up greedily. Freddie Lounds would not be receiving a picture of this Hannibal. 

Finally, Hannibal settled on a page. “Liebestraum, I think.”

“Sure. Anything.”

The dogs sighed as Hannibal started playing again, falling asleep to the graceful sounds of the piano. Hannibal’s fingers danced across the keys. Will was tempted to grab them, longed to interrupt Hannibal’s song and stare at their intertwined hands instead. Instead, he chose a safer route and leaned his head against Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“It’s difficult to do the piece justice with your weight on my arm.”

“At least I’m not the one with the big head. You’ll figure it out,” Will laughed softly. 

Will imagined Hannibal’s smile as Hannibal shifted, adjusting to handle the burden on his shoulder. The last time Will’s head had been on Hannibal’s shoulder, their bodies had been caked in blood and the still warm body of Francis Dolarhyde had watched their plunge into the Atlantic with glassy eyes. They had felt like one being then- two hearts in one body, beating and drowning in blood and stingy salt water, together. Now, sitting together by the piano, they were two separate people again. However, their experience on the rocky cliff above the churning Atlantic had left them bound, tied together by invisible strings that felt strong enough to last for eternity. 

Will forced himself to pay attention to the music. The music, which had been slow and melodic, now sounded hurried. “Speeding up?”

“I have a distinct impression that you want to kiss me. I certainly want to kiss you. I’m attempting to get through the piece before that impression goes away.” 

“If you were paying attention, you’d know I always want to kiss you.” Will hears a slight pause in the music, as though Hannibal needed a millisecond to process what Will had just confessed. It was the plain truth; Hannibal was very kissable and Will constantly fought against the desire to pull him close until they were both struggling for air. The weight of that truth would not have been something either of them could have handled a few short months before. Now, however, Will delighted in flustering Hannibal with romantic sincerity. He longed to look at Hannibal's face, to see if any vulnerability had made its way into his features. 

“Always?” Hannibal tilted his head to sneak a glance at Will’s face, which was still pressed against Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“Sometimes more than others.”

“Human desire is often affected by our emotions, or our surroundings. How is this moment affecting your desire?” 

The tone of Hannibal’s voice reminded Will of manipulative therapy sessions and unknown feeling hidden behind fancy words. He rolled his eyes. “Ruining the mood.”

“Shall I rephrase the question?” 

“Shoot.”

“Is there any particular reason why you want to kiss me?”

“Now? Or always?”

“Now. Always can wait until later.”

Will stayed silent for a moment, thinking as he stared at Hannibal’s fingers as they danced across the keys. “You look softer than usual. Cozy. It’s quite the look on you.” 

Hannibal stopped playing and turned, forcing Will to sit up. He studied Will’s features for a few moments before speaking. “Frank Listz based Liebestraum off of three poems, each depicting a different form of love; religious, erotic, and unconditional. None are adequate enough to describe my feelings for you.”

“Holy shit,” Will laughed. “You’re really gay for me aren’t you?”

Hannibal smiled softly, his eyes filled with affection. “I had wondered how long it would take for you to catch on.”

“Too long.” 

“If I knew wearing sweaters was the way to your heart I would have burned the suits long ago.” 

“That wouldn’t have worked. I’m only here for the money.”

“Then I hope you won’t mind I spent a good portion of it on Christmas dinner.”

“I thought the whole point of being a cannibal was saving money on groceries.” Will joked. Hannibal stared at him expectantly. “Oh shit, it’s Christmas.”

“Very observant today aren’t you.”

“Merry Christmas, asshole.” 

”Merry Christmas, Will.”

Will leaned forward to kiss Hannibal, finally. Will caught a glimpse of Hannibal’s brush before their lips met; kissing was slightly less new to them than it had been simply a few months earlier, but Hannibal’s surprise at being wanted was still present in his face before every kiss. They moved slowly, Hannibal trying his best not to smile and failing miserably and Will worrying the edge of Hannibal’s sweater between his fingers. The kiss was long and soft- an unspoken gift to one another, a reward for the last few months of compromise and communication. 

Hannibal pulled back slowly, breath warm and eyes soft. “Winston is watching us. I think he misses Debussy.”

“Ruining the mood. Again.”

Hannibal apologized with another kiss.


End file.
